


Be Quiet and Drive

by Taste_of_Suburbia



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Deftones, Friendship, Future AU, Gen, Kinda Gen anyway, Mixed feelings, Road Trips, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-30
Updated: 2013-08-30
Packaged: 2017-12-25 03:20:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/948021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taste_of_Suburbia/pseuds/Taste_of_Suburbia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s just him and his baby and the open road. It’s all that Dean has left, and it is nowhere near enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Be Quiet and Drive

**Author's Note:**

> Future AU, aftermath of a second apocalypse. Dean/Gabriel is only kinda strongly hinted at, not determined, which is why I’m using friendship and not romance. Really though, the only reason this isn’t romance is because of a lack of ample time between them and, of course, Dean’s pigheadedness.   
> _Soundtrack:_ Lyrics and the title are from the Deftones song of the same name

_~This town don’t feel mine_   
_I’m fast to get away_   
_Far~_

 

He keeps driving because he doesn’t know what else to do; Sam is gone and Cas is MIA and Gabriel is...

_No no no,_ he can’t think about that right now. He just has to completely clear his head, become numb and keep driving. Dean really doesn’t know what else he can do, he doesn’t know how to cope with the world outside his baby’s windows anymore. He has this small, cozy space all to himself, just like it’s always been, the space he can now barely leave for five minutes, let alone to eat out or sleep in an actual bed. 

Sam is somewhere in here, in the passenger seat or on the hood, the memory of him anyway. 

Dean rubs his forehead vehemently, the onset of a deep headache making it harder for him to see straight as the trees whip on by, as if they’re almost moving of their own accord. The road stretches on and on, no end in sight, and that’s just the way Dean Winchester likes it. The road he has passed by exactly that: behind him, in the past, no need to worry about it any longer. 

He wishes his memories could be like that: left in the past where they won’t haunt him, consume him so that he can barely think straight, let alone drive in a straight line and not veer off into some field or even tree. 

Gabriel’s laugh suddenly resounds around the Impala and Dean turns sharply, half expecting to see him sprawled out on the bench seat beside him, turning the radio off or to another station, biting off a huge piece of and chowing down on his candy bar, looking over at Dean and laughing and grinning like everything is just fine in the world and they’re simply out for a cruise. 

Then, it’s suddenly like one of those out of body experiences that Dean’s only ever heard about and quite frankly, figured they were a bunch of bull. He looks down at himself, only it’s not really him at all, the deep grooves etched in his forehead gone, caused by the stress of recent months. He looks much younger and much happier, and Gabriel’s really there instead of a figment of his damned imagination. 

He remembers this, remembers how happy he was, how they cruised the open road like two best friends who might have been, probably were _more._ How all of that was just fine with Dean, the not knowing, the just being happy to have companionship and someone who made him laugh more than get on his nerves. They were like two puzzle pieces who might not have fit together on the first try, but on the second time around it seemed like connecting was never a problem at all. They snapped together, and they didn’t fall apart when someone or something shook them. They were happy just like that, arguing over music, over food, over every single little thing they could think about. 

Gabriel would leave when he parked his baby in some random field overnight, falling asleep as he gazed up at the stars, and then as the months went by he stuck around and sprawled out in the grass, stargazing with him like it was the most normal thing in the world. Gabriel would tell him about his life up in heaven, every single little thing that happened to him after that and Dean listened, letting his voice soothe him into a world of no nightmares. 

He would wake up some mornings so close to him that their noses were near to brushing. 

Dean was lonely and Gabriel was lonely and they could be a little less lonely when they were together. It was all Dean knew for four months. Life caught up to them after that, the supernatural world that Dean had been raised in. They got back into hunting and at the same time they ran together, ran away from Lucifer and Michael, Gabriel sometimes zapping them to random locations where they could hide and relax at the same time in relative peace. 

It was all a blur after that, to the point where Dean didn’t exactly know or remember what had happened between him and Gabriel, if anything even happened at all. They were close when it all turned to shit, inseparable even, not like they really had much of a choice though. It was only so that Gabriel could protect him, as if Dean even cared about help or being protected anymore. 

His memories lapse in more places than he’d care to think about, and sometimes it seems like Gabriel was never there in the first place, because what the hell could be rational about any of what Dean thinks are memories and not dreams?

On some days the only thing he can remember is Gabriel’s sparkling amber eyes, how they glowed brilliantly even in the dark, when it seemed as if Dean had nothing else to light his way. 

He can remember Gabriel’s eyes on him that last day, and he hates how much it haunts him, hates the guilt and the pain and the _agony._ With that final moment the two of them were done, nothing left to do or say and no new memories, just old ones that would forever leave a bitter taste in his mouth. Gabriel’s eyes had been on him and he’s probably the last thing Gabriel ever saw. Dean wonders way too much whether that was the archangel’s plan all along, if that was how he wanted to go out, if Dean’s ugly face was the last image he planned on inevitably seeing or even _wanted_ to see. 

_Because I care about you, Dean. Because you’re all I have left too._

_My brothers were dicks, all they ever did was fight and ignore me in the process. So please, Dean, don’t ignore me._

There was nothing about it that wasn't downright depressing and somewhat heartfelt, not to mention fucked up, which was why Dean had to forget about it and move on. If he dwells on it long enough he’ll soon start to obsess, and Dean feels guilty enough about too many things prior to this without feeling guilty about what was entirely Gabriel’s stupid decision. Dean hates him for it, he hates that the archangel took it upon himself to leave him, and it’s just one huge mass of hatred morphing into rage and then fury. 

Then he can see Gabriel’s smiling eyes again and he turns soft. Damn him. 

It’s taken Dean long enough but finally he knows that this is it. His life is over; there is no one left for him to live for or to fight for. He thought he would go insane with loneliness when Sam left and Cas right after him, but then Gabriel had popped up out of nowhere, per usual, and gave him another reason to go on that he eventually accepted. Because it was only with Gabriel that he could forget it all: the second apocalypse; losing Sam again and just like the first time, not able to get him back; and Castiel telling him he had to take off and figure things out. 

As if he didn’t know how much Dean needed him, cause really, how could he not have?

No matter how many times Cas up and leaves, he never gets used to it. But at least Gabriel was there to save his ass in more ways that one, and Dean will never take that for granted. 

If Gabriel were here right now he would tell him to shut up and stop sulking and keep driving. He would get him out of his own nightmarish head by being annoying or a total dick, would probably resort to throwing things at him, and Dean would threaten to beat his ass and throw him out of the car, even though he perfectly well knew without Gabriel he’d be lying in a ditch on the side of the road, or so drunk and out of his mind that he couldn’t even function in any form. 

So that’s what Dean’s doing, getting in his baby and driving like it’s the only thing he has left to do; his last mission, last memory, last homage to Sam and Cas and even Gabriel. Especially Gabriel. 

The road rolls under him, accepting him, bringing him into its fold. That damn archangel who kept him going against all odds puts his feet up on the dash, candy bar half gone, looking over at Dean with that damn smile that always makes him give in and those eyes that make Dean melt like chocolate in the sun. 

‘Where to next, kiddo?’ In his head it feels real, it feels alive as it echoes around him and settles down deep inside him, warming him up like the sensation of Gabriel beside him always would when he was alive, _and_ his actual freaking companion and Dean imagined, hoped rather, that it would always remain like that. 

How wrong he was, because Gabriel died to protect him, retreated back to his side for no goddamn reason, probably so he could see him one last time. Because that’s the sort of thing the archangel would have said if he actually had the remaining strength to say anything to the human, at all. There was the light fading from his eyes and his head listing towards the side when it was over, and the imprint of his wings etched into the grass. 

Dean had wanted to scream, and he had wanted to cry and punch Gabriel over and over, even knowing that he wouldn’t be able to feel a damn thing. He wanted to say he was sorry, he wanted it all to mean something, mean something like Gabriel no doubt wanted it to. 

He was left behind, again, without reason to think about how he might have felt about Gabriel. 

_I’m not worth it, you son of a bitch. You knew I wasn’t, so why the hell did you do it? You didn’t give me enough time, there was no reason you could have come up with to justify..._

_Why the hell did you leave me?_

He can still hear Gabriel talking to him, words he might have heard before and others he can’t for the life of him recall. He can still see his smile and the sight in his vessel’s eyes fading like there was no life there to begin with. He can still look over and watch Gabriel pouring through travel books and begging Dean to stop somewhere, see something that’s probably stupid and boring but suddenly seems like everything in the world compared to being alone. 

“Find something and tell me where to go,” he tells him, cause after a while arguing seemed like a stupid idea and Gabriel always picked the most random and best places anyway. He looks next to him when the silence stretches out too long, and his image fades the way it does when he burns bones to lay vengeful spirits to rest. 

Except Dean didn’t burn Gabriel, and he didn’t stuff him in his trunk either. He left him there, in the grass in that random freaking field that looked just like all the rest of them. He left him there with his burnt-out wings, a shadow in the green grass, a permanent piece of art that Dean didn’t feel like he had the right to alter in any way.

He would say he’d go back if he thought he’d be alive long enough to go back. 

“Just tell me where to go.” He sounds desperate and it’s embarrassing, and it sounds stupid because he’s talking to himself and he knows it. He doesn’t know how to stop it either, doesn’t know how he can just one day hold an entire conversation with the guy and then the next just...

Just realize he’s not there, that he’ll never be there again and Dean’s not even talking to a ghost, but empty freaking air. 

There are no answers for his questions or witty remarks anymore, nothing but silence and sometimes hallucinations of random snippets of the archangel’s sentences, only meant for the hunter’s ears. 

If he’s lucky he can feel the phantom touch of Gabriel’s shoulder brushing up against his own; remember the scent of chocolate wafting through his baby, sending his sense of smell into overdrive; or even recall when Gabriel’s fingers entwined with his own that one day, when he caught sight of something that startled him, only bringing to mind how human the archangel seemed at times. Though really it was the fact that Dean didn’t pull his hand away, never did, not until they broke away to get back into the Impala. 

But it’s the memory of his laugh and his smile that really keeps Dean going, keeps Dean driving. 

So Dean thinks about these things and he smiles like he’s the happiest fucking person on the planet, like every single little thing is going his way, even knowing the next hunt he goes on is bound to be his last. He sits back, the smell of his baby and the feel of her surrounding him, engulfing him and Dean drives. His arm stretches out and wraps around the seat on instinct, because even if the archangel isn’t here he can still pretend he is. He can still turn the radio up so loud and hear Gabriel scream at him to turn it down, and he can buy candy bars and lollipops and stuff them in the glove compartment, and he can threaten to throw the book he’s reading out the window if he doesn’t stop reading it out word for word like Dean is illiterate. 

He slides in a tape and turns up the volume and picks up speed, and with the world rushing past him, unable to touch him, Dean drives. 

Dean drives because Gabriel told him to.

**FIN**


End file.
